He still hadn't woken up yet. As always, I deliver him water, taking away the other glass so they don't form an army of glasses on his bedside table. And yet, as I go, I always turn back. Stare shamelessly at him. The top of Cloud's pyjamas has ridden up slightly in sleep, and a muscular chest, slim and fit is showing itself from underneath. His clothes are hanging up neatly in the wardrobe, waiting for him to wake up again. As I washed them earlier today, the entrancing smell of Vincent wafted up from them. He smelt faintly of roses, which seemed rather un-Vincent like, but even still. That smell comes back to me as I look at him. He shifts slightly, and I blink, before walking out of the room, not turning back.

How would I feel if I had realised that somebody was watching me sleep? Rather uncomfortable, that was for sure. Suddenly, I wished that Vincent could be mine. He was so beautiful. I wish that I could make him happy, and he could live the rest of his life (however long that would be) happy. Everyone deserved happiness, didn't they? He was no exception. Vincent, I could make you happy…

Wait, wait, wait! What was I thinking? I had Cloud. He was mine. And I was his. He loved me and I loved him. But even still… I tried to picture Cloud and I together, happy, but for some reason pictures of Vincent kept on coming through my mind, much like the scent of roses had wafted through my nostrils earlier. Ensnaring and unforgettable.

A locked valentine. That was what he was. Someone beautiful enough to touch, and easily love, but locked away from everybody. Nobody could find the key. It had probably disappeared when everything had ruined his hopes so badly, all those years before I was even born. I don't understand this. Cloud and I were obviously meant to be. We had shared moments from when we were children, and the day when he finally confessed his love to me was one of the happiest of my life. But now, Vincent has come and thrown everything into turmoil. Cloud and Vincent, such opposites. Fair short spiky hair to Vincent's unruly ebony locks, trailing down his back. Cloud, so friendly once you got to know him, while Vincent you couldn't even get to know. It couldn't be love for Vincent. If I fell in love with somebody else, wouldn't it be somebody like Cloud?

I had imageries of the two men. Cloud represented the peaceful life. And now, his life was peaceful. A pale shade of blue, warm, carefree and inviting. Vincent on the other hand was a crimson red which represented years of love lost, unadulterated passion. They were so different, yet at the same time, so similar.

Trying to break the rhythm of my confused thoughts, I go down and open the bar an hour early. But I can't concentrate on the people's happy conversations as they talk to me. My thoughts are elsewhere. That is only too apparent as I nearly drop one of the martinis that I am trying to serve up for people. Righting it quickly before it can fall, I quickly deliver it before going back behind the bar, deep in thought. 

How can you fall in love so quickly? Although I have to say that I have had a tendency to do so. When I first saw Cloud as a teenager, I began to have an instant crush on him, which soon developed into something more. But it isn't as though I fall in love with every man that walks past. But now… Vincent is like an infatuating perfume that is ensnaring my senses. It makes me feel like a teenager again, and not for a good reason.

How did I manage to get myself into this mess? Cloud was the one for me. Cloud was the one for me. Cloud loves me…

But… Vincent…

I'm still not happy with the 'falling-in-love' bit of this story. I know it's meant to be a shortish story, but it still seems extremely sudden to me… oh well, think of Romeo and Juliet. They both fell in love with each other after seeing each other, so I guess… (please bear with me here ^^)